


Pretend

by HyourinmaruIce



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Asylum, Asylum!Belle, Being Belle, F/M, Just Belle, No Lacey, coming out of an Asylum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyourinmaruIce/pseuds/HyourinmaruIce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle and Brushing her hair</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretend

She didn’t like people near her let alone touching her, he’d realized this very early on. When Prince Charming had tried to comfort her the first time he saw her, she’d nearly bitten his arm off.

They let him deal with her after that. While that made him incredibly happy, since he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone taking his Belle away, he also was angry at the thought that they didn’t want to deal with a living human being so they’d just let the person they would never normally trust handle it. Yes, complete and total common sense of course.  
He accepted it though, beggars don’t look gift horses in the mouth.

She trusted him some, her thoughts still scrambled by the curse and the asylum, but there was a long road he would have to travel to bring her back fully.

She didn’t trust her father however. No matter how many times Maurice came by (and he’d apologized for taking something so precious, not once thinking about the cane that had beaten him within an inch of his life… Rumpelstiltskin found that he liked Maurice much more than he did Moe). It hurt to think about it, he understood the pain Maurice must feel.

He and Maurice had coffee together in the mornings now.

It was after one of these morning coffee runs, in which he’d accidentally left his phone at the house, that he discovered Belle trying to brush her hair. She hadn’t let him help her with anything before and preferred to do things on her own, often disappearing into the bathroom for privacy when something came up. So it was quite a surprise when he also realized something else, she was using his hairbrush.

He’d bought one just for her. He’d bought her all her own things and helped her decorate her room by buying her paint. (He didn’t regret that decision either because it was the first time he’d gotten to see a smile that resembled the bright one she used to have.) He gave her as much space or room as she needed. In his few weeks experiencing this broken but healing version of Belle he had never seen her struggle with something or use anything that wasn’t explicitly for her.  
The door close with a click behind him as he continued to watch her struggle and wince with each swipe of the square, short tined brush. The wire brushes were so uncomfortable, and he disliked combs, so he often ended up buying the same type of brush over and over.

She didn’t hear him like she usually did. Usually when he came home she was in his library reading and came running. She would smile shyly and say hello before slinking back into the library. He never went in there, that was her safe haven.

He gently took off his coat and placed it on the hat stand that was often substituted for this purpose. As he made his way around the couch to alert her to his presence, he didn’t want to startle her, a strangled noise came from Belle and she threw the brush in his direction. She was facing the opposite way and it was a perfect toss over the shoulder, it hit him directly in the chest.

She squeaked at the sound and jumped to her feet to face him, her hands covering her mouth in a horrified expression. He had caught the brush with his freehand. He glanced down at it and turned it over in his fingers before looking back at Belle with a bemused expression.

While she was feral in many respects, she was still Belle at her core. She didn’t like hurting anything that wasn’t human and wasn’t threatening her. She was downright Belle sometimes when he got her to laugh. He was also discovering that her sense of humor included his.

He gently placed the brush down on the table nearby and glanced at Belle as she hung her head and wrung her hands.  
“Did the hairbrush do something to antagonize you?” He asked, making sure he slipped a bit of humor in his voice or she’d get angry.

She shook her head and bit her lip in Belle like fashion before snatching the hairbrush off the table and holding it to her chest like it was her favorite stuffed animal.

“Then why are you inclined to throw the poor thing?”

She met his eyes for a few seconds before training her gaze on the ground once more. He was being reminded that it was rare when she spoke, often needing prompting, “I can’t brush my hair,”

He blinked at that, “You do it every morning dear-,”

“Don’t call me that!” She snapped angrily at him, her gaze meeting his. The blue of her iris blazed with fury before she settled and bit her lip again, “And I sort of… pretend… to brush my hair….”

He blinked again, not comprehending, “Why?”

She was still looking him in the eyes, her facial expression twisted into something he now recognized as thoughtful. She was considering trusting him, his body didn’t move a muscle, “I…” She paused for a second before looking at the ground once more, “It hurts,”

Suddenly he understood. After years of being tangled her hair, while looking nice as it always did because her hair was well behaved, would be very difficult to untangle.

“Oh,” He said.

She was watching his hands now, his eyes must have gotten boring.  
With a sigh, she slumped onto the couch.

He didn’t sit down by her. Merely watched as he waited for her to do something, say something that would indicate what he should do.

“I thought you were going to the pawnshop,” Well this was a turn of events, this was the most she had talked in the weeks he’d been privileged to have her stay.

“I left my phone,”

Her eyes darted to his before fixing on his hands, “Oh,”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be going then,”

He turned to leave, keeping her in his peripheral vision. She was watching him, her gaze following him as he neared the door and a panicked expression crossed her features.

She thrust out a hand, “NO!”

He turned back to her and she recoiled and dropped her head immediately.

“Would… would you help me?”

He once again blinked at her, “You don’t like being touched,”

She shook her head, “I don’t like being touched,”

He tilted his head and she looked up at him oddly before dropping her gaze to the couch once more, “So… how would I help?”

“Brushing my hair?” Her voice was small, but it was still there and he had given Belle anything she’d wanted… so what was one more thing.

“Alright,”


End file.
